


Intertwined

by iRockYourSocks



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Historical References, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRockYourSocks/pseuds/iRockYourSocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Reds and the Blues, before Project Freelancer, there was Tucker and Washington. Soulmate AU-an adventure through the ages</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swishswishstab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swishswishstab/gifts).



“Hey.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing—“

A sigh. “Just say it.”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“…”

“No, seriously.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Do you think, if we were in a different time, would we still be like this?”

A quiet groan. “Why can’t you just say it?”

“…”

Another sigh. “Would I still love you? Why wouldn’t I?”

“We didn’t really have the best start, you know.”

“Dude, I’ve got you, and you’ve got me.”

“..thanks.”

Breathy laughter. “Love you.”

A chuckle. “Love you too.”

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_“Freckles, shake.”_

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He walks down the dirt path, head down and avoided the hollow gazes of the men strung up of the crosses of grainy wood in the blistering heat. There are still a good number of people shouting at the bodies, some long dead and others still suffering through the painful death.

Sweat runs down the warm, brown skin of his shoulders as the sun beats down on him relentlessly. He has grown too accustomed to the smell of death in the air, too accustomed to these activities. Maybe he is walking in the Hell that the Christians preach about, but living men don’t get the _pleasure_ of seeing such a thing.

Maybe that’s a good thing—

—but when he looks up at a man who’s still half coherent, ashy hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and sunken-in eyes brighter than the sun itself, he wonders whether or not the Romans are too harsh in their punishments.

Either way, Lavernius continues to walk down his path of living, the barely alive man a dark spot in his otherwise sunny day.

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But he will never forget how those eyes haunted him that day.

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He loosened his tie as he tapped his foot against the floors. His face was flushed red with exhilaration and the heat of the boiler room. His back was facing the door, but he quickly turned around when he heard the screeching of the heavy metal door opening.

Washington’s eyes light up as Tucker shuts the door as quietly as possible, taking in his appearance. His shirt was still damp from working near all the machines, his muscled arms  waving his hat in front of his face to try to cool down. He grins when he looks up, taking long strides to take Wash in his arms.

Their lips pressed together, hands gripping fabric and unfastening buttons to caress heat-dampened skin and calloused finger pads. They smile into each others mouths, finding peace in the embrace. This is the one place they can be themselves, a place where there isn’t any judgment. A place where a higher class man and a lower class worker can shed the layers society forced upon them.

It was happenstance that they met, Wash a wealthier man and Tucker working in the boiler room, and though their relationship was forbidden in more than one way, they only had one week together and to hell with anyone who had a problem with it.

Wash was going to do what he wanted on this ship’s maiden voyage. 

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After all, this ship was unsinkable.

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He is a different man than the one he was when the war first broke out. He’s seen friends die before his eyes, have had to drag their lifeless bodies back so that the families could have _something_ to remember their son by.

He couldn’t save York.

He couldn’t save Dakota.

He couldn’t save _anyone_ who mattered to him.

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At the end of the war, when he sees the colored soldier that he saved from being shot in the face at point blank range , he smiles at the man, knowing that even if he failed his previous battalion, he did _something_ right.

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Tucker yawns, rubbing the the sleep out of his eyes and rolling over to see Wash sprawled out next to him. The cat is lying at the foot of the bed, an intruder to the relaxed silence after a hectic day. He trails his eyes from the feline to Wash’s form under the covers, nude from the waist up.

His face is turned towards him, lips parted as he snores quietly. His ashy hair is sticking up in every direction and Tucker can map out every one of his freckles as if they were a detailed map of the cosmos. It was one of those things that he loved about him, but not something that he felt the need to tell him about.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, he eyes the matching silver band around Wash’s left ring finger and smiles.

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Because although they fight and generally get on each other’s nerves—

—their wedding day was the happiest day of his life.

Not that he needs to state he obvious.

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The world is a blurry haze when he wakes up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy now. You’ve been knocked out for a while. Just take it easy; there’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe, Tucker.”

Tucker groans, lifting himself up into a standing position.

The new guy, Felix, is in front of him. _Why is Felix there_? “You took a rock to the head. Good news is, we made it back to base undetected.”

Tucker feels many emotions at this moment, confusion the most prominent. 

_Back to base_?

“Welcome to the New Republic.”

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_“Where is everyone?”_

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_“What about Sarge?”_

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_“What about Wash?”_

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_“…”_

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_“That’s bullshit.”_

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And for some weird reason, deep inside of his chest, Tucker feels like this isn’t the first time that he’s lost Wash, nor will it be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for RvB before, so your thoughts would be super helpful!


End file.
